Hey, a little background info. Name: Alexander Domingos (just call me alex) Sex: Male Age: 13 Nationality: Parents born in Africa, I was born in the US Likes: Sports, Intellectual Debate (nerd lol), Comedy, Writing, Music Star Light You sit on the chair, in the starlit room. Your hair blows in the imaginary wind, in the starlit room Who ever said that silence was golden? It's naked and ugly, anything but golden. I sit on the floor adjacent to you. My carpet-less spare room, no furniture, or decoration. Our meeting place, my sanctuary, Just a chair and a window, that is all that we need. To stare at the sun, the moon, and the stars. To imagine anything, not matter how close or how far. We sit by the starlight thats so far away... You told me yesterday, you wanted to be a star girl. To live in the sky, away from this world. You're my star girl, you're so far away. Your body so close, but I can not reach you. So I sit, and I wait for the day to come, but it never does, it hides, it tortures me so. This silence, it's living, it tortures me so. This silence, this silence isn't golden for me. It's a wall, a brick wall, that gets in the way. I hate it, I hate it, I can't block it out, this silence is breathing, breathing into me doubt. Everything is so wrong, I'm consumed by the fright, As we sit in the starlight, alone at last...

Hey Alex, nerd is not a bad word! Your poem is evocative which is good, maybe a bit repetitious for my personal taste. I really like the analogy of the girl being like a star.. so close and yet so far away. I have a daughter like that. In the same room but not on the same planet.

Thank you. I usually don't write in a repetitive style. I just did this time. I made all the repetition to show his (my????) desperation and the...what's the word I am looking for...intensity of his feelings. Kind of like he was breaking down. Also it was supposed to be sort of like an epiphany, where he stops and realises all of these things for the first time, and he is so shocked that he can't really function at a normal level, his thoughts are just primative. Hence the primative sentances, repetition etc. But thank you for the feedback :-) Alex

Welcome to the forum, Alex. I was reminded very much of a different kind of poet Edgar Allen Poe when I read yours...the ringing of the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells....that repetition that beats like a clanging in your head. I think you did well. I'm not one of the poets of the group but I enjoyed your poem very much.

If you soften it a bit, it will be much better. Right now it reads like a hockey game. biff boom bamm boom bamm biff biff. I keep telling my daughter she needs to glide a little more when she skates, the same is true here. Don't take my words as harsh; Don't feel your poem worth less; It's just your words tend to be hard; They need to find finess. Keep on writing and find that fine in finess.

Um...gialyn and james, thanks a lot for the feed back, but um, james what do you mean by my words are too hard? I am not quite up to date on the poet lingo (lol)

Alex: Be warned, tjames can be blunt, and sometimes you have to read between the lines a few times to figure out what he is saying. If I am reading Star Light the way he is, it feels choppy, rather than flowing with the finesse he refers to. It seems like most lines are sentences, coming to an abrupt halt each time. Those that aren't full end stops still break with a comma, a pause, that adds to that blocky, hard feel. Even the words tend to be short, with only a few polysyllables. It doesn't contribute to a rhythmic read. Does that help any? Hopefully I'm thinking of some of the same things as tj. BTW, I really like the unexpected twist at "Who ever said that silence was golden? It's naked and ugly, anything but golden."

BTW response sent E-mail at greater length.

Welcome! Like everyone else, I really liked the part about silence. It's a great twist to the cliche. I also liked the next-to-last lines in the poem: It's a wall, a brick wall, that gets in the way. I hate it, I hate it, I can't block it out, this silence is breathing, breathing into me doubt. Everything is so wrong, I'm consumed by the fright, Looking at the poem, I'd agree that it's a bit stilted. I think mysteri hit it on the head - short words with almost every line a short sentence. The end line breaks off, not quite finishing the sentiment. I'm not a poet by any stretch, but when people talk about prose, one thing that comes up a lot is the idea of pacing - having sections that are slow and thoughtful mixed in with quick, attention-grabbing scenes. I think you're poem would do better if you had some additional slow areas - sentences that lazily wrap over a few lines entwined with short lines that bring home the point. And if you're writing this well at age 13, you've got a great future ahead! I hope we can see more of your writing.